


How to Surprise a Spy

by Callioope



Series: Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week [4]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Children, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Fluff, Future, M/M, RebelCaptain Appreciation Week, Rebelcaptainprompts, Surprise Party, and some angst in there too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callioope/pseuds/Callioope
Summary: Leia smirks. “How does it feel to be outsmarted by your own daughter?”“It’s a little embarrassing, actually.”“Well,” Leia says, “I suppose, as parents, it’s what we deserve.”#Cassian should be thrilled when his family throws him a surprise party, but something else is weighing on him. For the Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week prompt "Future."





	How to Surprise a Spy

**Author's Note:**

> What a week! Four fics in one week, that is like a first for me. It feels good to be writing this much, BUT it's also quite exhausting and I think my bf will be glad to have me back and functioning again. 
> 
> Thank you EVERYONE for reading and commenting this week (I will get to responding to comments soon, when I can breathe again, and then I will finally get back to Whatever I Do). 
> 
> Also, what a great week for so much good work! So glad to have participated in Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week and to celebrate the wonderful Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso.
> 
> Without further ado...

“Surprise!”

Cassian blinks. A crowd of people stares at him, wearing a range of smiles: most of them joyful, some of them hesitantly hopeful, and some a little anxious. Of the latter, his thirteen-year-old daughter idles in the doorway from the living room to the kitchen, Jyn’s hands on her shoulders.

Esper looks like him, from her hair to her eyes to the half-smile climbing up the side of her face. The smile of someone not ready to participate fully in happiness yet, the smile he’d worn all through the rebellion.

“Feliz compleaños, papá,” she says, shrugging.

So Cassian does something he hasn’t done in a long time. He puts on his spy mask, and smiles back.

His daughter releases the rest of her smile, and now he sees Jyn fully in her features, and she runs up and hugs him.

“Gracias, mija,” he says, ruffling her hair. She laughs and pulls away. “Did you plan all this?”

She nods, “And Galen and mama helped, too.” She leans forward conspiratorially, “But I did most of the work.”

He laughs, and hugs her again, and if his smile doesn’t fully reach his eyes, well, it’s only Jyn who would notice.

#

He goes searching for Jyn as soon as he can, after politely making chitchat and gradually pushing his way through the living room crowd, a mix of his past and present, people he fought with during the war and people he farms with now.

But when he makes his way to the kitchen, Jyn is on her way out, balancing a stack of plates and kicking the door open with her foot.

“Jyn,” he calls out, but she doesn’t react and disappears onto the porch. He pauses and follows her with his eyes. They’ve pushed together two tables in the center of the lawn, for eating, and two more tables up against the house, for a buffet of food he can’t see but can smell through the open window.

A man with curly black hair is bent over the buffet, stacking his plate high, and he looks up as Cassian watches and smiles.

“Uncle Cass!” he says, grinning. Before Cassian can even respond, Poe Dameron has already marched up the stairs and rushed into the kitchen. He nearly spills his food all over Cassian in an awkward hug, but Cassian saves the plate—and the chilaquiles—just in time.

“Sorry,” Poe says. “Can’t let this go to waste.”

“Who made this?” Cassian says, wondering who is his competition is, because he didn’t even know he was hungry until he saw it and his stomach growled.

“Who do you think?” Poe says, smile widening. “Like father, like daughter. Better watch out, she’ll give you a run for your money.”

“Is that so?” Cassian says, and maybe his grin becomes a little more sincere. “And where did my little chef run off to?”

He searches the backyard, expecting to see her running around with the rest of the kids, but instead he spots Bodhi, “piloting” his adopted daughter Rey by carrying her on his shoulders as she sticks her arms out to the side, making whooshing noises. He can’t help but notice her other father is missing, and it seems a little strange, not to see Luke hovering nearby.

“Oh, last I saw, she was herding everyone outside for brunch,” Poe says. He leans back against the counter and starts digging into his food.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” he hears, the sound coming from dining room, and sure enough, when he looks over, he sees his daughter shooing people outside. She might look like him, but her spirit is Jyn through and through.

Now fully smiling, despite himself, he turns back to Poe.

“How are you doing? It’s been awhile.”

“Great,” Poe says through a mouthful. He swallows. “I’m going to the academy next month.”

“The academy already?” Cassian says. “Can’t be. Seems like just yesterday you were a baby.”

Poe’s laugh is joined by another, and Cassian turns.

“I know what you mean,” Kes Dameron says, entering from the dining room. “Seems like just yesterday _you_ were calling Shara and me crazy for having a kid.”

Poe snorts, still grinning. “And this is the man you chose as my guardian? Thanks a lot, dad.”

“To be fair,” Cassian says, “you weren’t born yet and there was a rebellion going on at the time.”

“Didn’t stop you though, did it?”

“Hey,” Cassian says, and he finds himself glancing around for his daughter again. He can neither see nor hear her, which is often a sign of trouble. “Esper was born _after_ Jakku.”

“¡Papá, papá!” Someone crashes into him, and he looks down to see his ten-year-old son.

“Hola, Galen,” he says, wrapping him in a one-armed hug. “¿Dónde está tu hermana?”

“No sé.” Galen shrugs and looks up at him innocently. According to Jyn, and the little information that Cassian knows, he mostly takes after his namesake, in looks, personality, and interests, but for one thing: like his sister, he’s also inherited his father’s eyes. (A very small part of him, deep down in his heart, had secretly wished his children would have their mother’s eyes, but such is biology.)

“Papá, you need to come outside—”

And then he is interrupted by a sudden blast of music, festival music that Cassian hasn’t heard since he was a child. He raises his eyebrows.

“Good thing the neighbors are already here,” he says, shouting over the sound. “Excuse me.”

#

By the time he reaches the stereo to turn the music down, his daughter has vanished. He finds Kay instead, guarding the music box.

“I’m sorry, Cassian,” Kay-Tu says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m under strict orders that the music should not be changed.”

“Orders?” Cassian says. “Who’s?

“Who do you think?” Kay says. “Like mother, like daughter. She’s quite stubborn.”

Cassian curses in his head. If there’s anyone’s orders that might supercede his own, it’s his children’s. He supposes this is his fault.

The music plays on for several measures, upbeat and peppy, music to dance to. Music he did dance to, forty years ago, with someone who is no longer alive. Someone who taught him to dance, and to make chilaquiles…

Where did his daughter find this music? Why did she insist on playing it?

He sighs.

“Can you at least turn it down?”

Kay pauses. “I suppose that is still within the directive.”

“Thanks, Kay.”

#

He’s two steps off the porch, heading towards the second make-shift goal that Esper is propping up in the middle of their yard, when a voice calls out to him.

“Oy! Captain Crabby!”

His whole body goes rigid and he slowly pivots on his foot until he is face-to-face with Han Solo.

Whose wife elbows him in the ribs.

“Hello, Leia,” he says, polite for all the years they’ve known each other. “Han.”

“Happy birthday,” Leia says, giving a warm smile. Both of them acting as if their last conversation never happened, Han joking around, Leia ever the diplomat.

“Thank you.” He starts plotting ways to keep this short, to escape.

“Your daughter put together a lovely party,” Leia says, gesturing around their property. He notices, as she does so, that generator three hums happily, apparently in fine working condition. He shakes his head. He’s let his guard down in old age.

“You’re not enjoying yourself?” Han says, and to Cassian it sounds accusatory, but of course he’s talking about the head shake.

“I am,” Cassian lies. Then he adds, “I just noticed the generator. Supposedly it was busted this morning. I went to get a replacement part.”

“Who sent you on that mission?” Han asks.

“Who do you think?” he repeats, apparently the mantra of the day. He looks at Leia. “Like aunt, like niece.” And it feels a little better, to say it outloud, to start mending the rift between them. Because he’s known the princess long enough for her to feel like family.

Leia smirks. “How does it feel to be outsmarted by your own daughter?”

She certainly cuts to the heart of things. Well, close enough. And he’s surprised again that day when he lets out a laugh. “It’s a little embarrassing, actually.”

“Well,” Leia says, “I suppose, as parents, it’s what we deserve.”

“Yea.” Cassian sighs. “How’s Ben’s nose?”

“Fine, thank you for asking.” Leia scans the yard. “He’s around here somewhere.”

“Really?” Although he supposes Esper couldn’t exactly invite Han and Leia without inviting their son. Both Cassian and Leia spot him at the same time: under a tree, talking animatedly to Galen, who is holding up Jyn’s kyber crystal and staring at it inquisitively.

Cassian frowns.

“Oh, sure,” Leia says. “They made up awhile ago. Esper called him and apologized.”

“Did she?” He looks back over to where he last spotted her, but the goal posts stand and his daughter is no longer in the vicinity. Several other children have started playing with a familiar white and black ball, but not knowing the rules, they start tossing it to each other. Esper would dribble circles around these kids. (At this rate, she could probably dribble circles around him.)

“Luke is here.”

Now that is a surprise, Cassian thinks. Leia eyes him carefully, but Cassian is starting to get used to his spy mask again and so he betrays nothing.

“Have you tried the chilaquiles?” he says instead. He hasn’t tried them himself yet; he hasn’t had any food yet, which his stomach has been keen to remind him.

“Delicious,” Han says. “Did you hire someone?”

Cassian shakes his head and says, with a straight face, “Just when I was starting to forgive you.”

Han pauses, and then they all laugh, and maybe Cassian can admit that he feels a little better.

“Esper made them, actually,” he says, still smiling.

“Really? You’ve got a good one,” Han says. “Want to make a trade?”

Cassian snorts, Leia elbows Han again.

“I’m just kidding,” he says.

“Not like I’d give her up, anyways,” Cassian says. He spots Bodhi, walking towards him. “But I’d better try her chilaquiles before it’s too late. Excuse me.”

He escapes to the buffet.

#

“There you are,” Jyn says, as he grabs a plate. “I was beginning to think you went into hiding.”

“I’ve been looking for our daughter,” he says. “But I keep missing her.”

Jyn grins. “Outwitted by a thirteen-year-old. Wow, Major Andor. You’re getting old.” She bumps her hip against his.

“Maybe it was a mistake, the two of us reproducing.” He elbows her back.

“You’re just upset because there’s a better cook in the house now.”

“Whoa,” Cassian says, setting down his plate on the table and turning to look at her face to face. “That’s a very serious declaration.”

Jyn laughs and leans up to kiss him. “How do you like the party?”

He sighs and Jyn sinks back down.

“Cassian?”

“It’s nice,” he finally says.

“But?”

Where does he even begin?

“Hey, papá.”

Again, a few choice words run through his brain. Of course, she would suddenly appear _now_. He hopes she didn’t hear, but when he faces her, he knows she did.

“There you are, mi corazón,” he says, reaching out for her. She looks up at him, eyes wide, unsure.

Before either of them can say anything, the door to the kitchen opens and Luke steps outside.

It takes most of his effort to slide his mask on, especially when Bodhi shows up next to his husband. So he takes the simple choice, and he walks away.

“Papá…” Esper calls, and it hurts, but he doesn’t turn back.

#

It really was the perfect day for a party. The sun shines down on their green fields, a light wind rustles the leaves overhead. He can still hear the music, faintly, even in the copse of trees at the back of their property, even over the gurgling water of the creek.

He plants his boots in the muddy bank and sits down. With a sigh, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and just watches the river run by.

Behind him and to his left, he knows without looking, the old swing hangs, made out of some old part of a ship. He used to push Esper and Galen on that swing, but they’re too big for it now.

“Papá?”

She’s thirteen, but to him, her voice still sounds much younger.

He rubs his face before saying, “Come here, por favor.”

Tentatively, she steps forward, settles beside him on the bank.

“Are you mad at me?” she asks.

“Never,” he says, wrapping an arm around her. “I love you.”

She lets out a deep, shaky sigh. “I just wanted to throw you a good party for your birthday.”

“I know.”

“You don’t like it?”

He looks down and sees she’s clutching a thin, velvety box in her hands. “What’s that?”

She sniffs slightly and his heart clenches. “It’s my present for you.”

“May I see it?”

She offers it to him slowly. With care and precision, he slides off a thick, gauzy bow and opens the box.

Staring back at him is his mother, forty-five years ago, cradling a bundle in her arms that he assumes must be him. Standing beside her is her own mother, Esperanza, the very person his daughter is named for.

“¿Papá?” she says again, and he can hear the tears in her eyes, the tears that mimic his own. He can’t speak for several moments, so instead he pulls Esper in closer and kisses the top of her head.

“Muchas gracias,” he finally whispers. “I love it.”

“Do you really?”

“It’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me,” he says. “Besides you and your brother.”

She lets out a short giggle. “¡Oy, papá!”

“Too much?”

“¡Sí!”

He laughs.

“Where did you get this?” he asks.

“Uncle Draven helped me.” She fiddles with the shoelace on her boots.

“Really?” Cassian smirks.

“Yea… and Galen found the music, he did a lot of research, and, well, of course, you taught me how to make all the food, but Uncle Baze and Chirrut helped cook it this morning…”

“Even the chilaquiles?”

Now she lets out a big laugh, leans into him. “Never! I did that all on my own.”

“Of course, of course,” he says. “I hope there’s still some left for me.”

“Well I can’t promise there’ll be any left,” she says, “But if we go back now…”

“Just a minute,” he says. He closes the box and turns so that he’s looking in her eyes. “I know you want to train to be a Jedi,” he says.

She makes a face and looks away, goes back to twirling her boot lace around her fingers.

“When Uncle Luke told me you were Force-sensitive…” He runs a hand through his hair. “It scared me.”

“Papá…”

“It’s time you know this,” he says. “If you want to do this.” Her fingers freeze, the boot lace falling from her hand. “I joined the rebellion when I was six years old. Your mama was eight.”

She whirls back to look at him. “Then how can you say I’m too young—”

“Esperanza,” he warns. “Let me finish.”

She closes her mouth and stares up at him defiantly, and stars, she looks so much like Jyn in that moment.

“That’s exactly why we can say you’re too young.” He holds her gaze. “We swore, long before you were born, that no child of ours would have to live through that. Esper, we wanted you to have a real childhood. That’s what we were fighting for. That’s what we almost _died_ for.”

He gulps. He sees tears pooling in her eyes, but she stares up at him and they don’t fall.

“It’s very difficult for us,” he says. “To see you grow up. To let you go.”

Now she looks away and he sees one tear roll down her cheek.

“There’s no war right now,” she says. “We wouldn’t even be fighting anyone.”

“That’s not the point, mi cielo.”

She juts out her chin. “What is the point, then?”

“My parents died when I was very young,” he says. “I’d give anything to have more time with them. We just want a little more time with you.”

“Hm.” She resumes picking at her laces.

“So when you’re seventeen,” he starts, slowly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “You can join Uncle Luke’s training.”

“Seventeen?” she whispers, and that cold, quiet anger is more like him. “That’s four years.”

“That’s right,” he says. “That’s how old Poe is. He’s going to the academy next month.”

“But that’s too old. Ben said the Jedi started learning when they were…”

“Luke didn’t start training until he was nineteen,” Cassian says, and it surprises him, when he thinks of the farmboy that blew up the Death Star, to realize just how young he was. “And even that training was rudimentary. He didn’t really start to train until he was twenty-two.”

Esper sighs and mumbles something.

“What was that?”

“I guess it’s a fair compromise,” she mutters, only a little louder.

“I think so.”

For what seems the millionth time that day, she surprises him with a fierce hug. “Thank you, papá. Does mama agree?”

“Yes.”

She pulls back and stares him in the eyes. “¿Papá?”

“I’ll convince her.”

“¡Papá!”

“I will. I promise.”

“You better,” she says.

He laughs. “Now help your old man up. I’ve got some chilaquiles to claim.”

#

The party goes longer than planned, lasting until sunset. Cassian teaches the children how to play the sport from his childhood, and sure enough, Esper does run circles around everyone, but at the last minute, she passes the ball to little Rey, who’s barely been keeping up, and the four-year-old gently taps the ball into the—

“GOOOOOOAAALL!” Esper yells, hoisting Rey up on her shoulders and running across the field. Rey laughs and spreads her arms out again, like she had with Bodhi.

“Still think she’s too young to play?” Bodhi says, and Cassian starts, turning to him, but Bodhi is looking at Luke. And Cassian bursts out laughing.

“Yes,” Luke says, and after a pause he chuckles along with Cassian. “She’s the smallest one out there!”

“Yea, but Esper and Galen kept an eye on her,” Bodhi says. “Like parents, like children.”

Jyn sighs next to him, and Cassian wraps an arm around her.

“Maybe we did okay after all,” she says.

“Yes,” Cassian says, “I think we did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Esperanza means “hope.” There seemed to be a lot of different nicknames for it, but I went with Esper because it sounded Star Wars-y. Also, I only took beginner Spanish so I know nothing. ~~If anything seems off, let me know.~~
> 
> **EDIT** : Special thank you to [rebelkyber](https://rebelkyber.tumblr.com/) for helping me get the Spanish correct! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
